


New Perspective

by Gallons_of_the_Stuff



Category: Split (2016)
Genre: Dubious Consent, F/M, How Do I Tag, Past Child Abuse, Past Sexual Abuse, Prompt Fill, Sex Pollen, mentions of abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-10
Updated: 2017-06-10
Packaged: 2018-11-12 11:31:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,431
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11160987
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gallons_of_the_Stuff/pseuds/Gallons_of_the_Stuff
Summary: The flower wasn't supposed to bloom for another week.





	New Perspective

**Author's Note:**

> For the Split Kink Meme 
> 
> http://split-kink-meme.dreamwidth.org/518.html?thread=22790#cmt22790
> 
> "Casey/Dennis or Casey/Kevin, Sex Pollen, Fuck or Die, Dubcon
> 
> Prefer in-verse/canon AU. Casey and/or Dennis or Kevin are hit with a substance that compels them to have sex, and possibly threatens their lives if they don’t. Cue hot sex, awkwardness, angst and embarrassed aftermath."
> 
> *rolls up sleeves and cracks knuckles* Well, let’s see what we can do with this. Been awhile since I’ve written smut.

Casey ran back to the room as she was told and threw the door closed behind her. For a moment, she stood staring at it, then darted to sit on the bed. She drew her legs up to her chest as she waited, heart pounding.

Would they punish her for trying to block Patricia from going after Marcia? The attempt was pitiful in hindsight—Casey cursed her weakness, but the knife in Patricia’s hand reminded her too vividly of the night she received the largest scar on her belly and she had reacted in the interest of self-preservation—but she didn’t know how they would take even that much interference.

 _Please let Marcia be okay_ , she thought. Though the man had been angry when Claire had tried to escape, it was nothing compared to the danger in the woman’s eyes when she ordered Casey back to ‘her’ room.

Several long minutes passed before she heard a short series of buzzing noises, faint with distance and walls. A drill, maybe?

Her breathing slowly returned to normal but her body… her body felt strange. An unfamiliar smell tickled her nose.

The door opened a few moments later to reveal the man—Dennis, if she remembered the name right. He left the door open as he crossed the room to sit on the cot with her, clearly agitated.

“The dark-haired girl, she’s gonna be kept in another closet,” he said, not quite looking at her, his hands moving in sharp, jerky gestures. “You might as well know at this point. The Beast, he’s coming for you. All three of you, you’re gonna be kept separate.”

He looked at her then, to gauge her understanding she guessed, but his eyes didn’t stay on her face. His tongue darted out to wet his lips and he looked away again, expression pained. “You’ve got… you’ve got a crumb on your shirt. Please take it off. Just… just take it off.”

Raising her hands to the zipper of her hoodie, she realized they were shaking. He wouldn’t look at her, but his breathing was rapid. Casey hadn’t forgotten the way he had taken Marcia out of the room in the beginning. She had said he wanted her to dance for him, but where did dancing end? Even knowing that she had another shirt on underneath her hoodie, the thought made her fingers slow to unzip it.

A glance out the door only served to remind her that there was no way out, but something else in the room drew her attention before she could entirely dismiss it. A red flower, maybe some kind of lily. She hadn’t noticed it before, yet she didn’t know how she could have missed it. It was… gorgeous. “What is that?” she asked, carefully shrugging her shoulders out of the jacket.

“What?” the man said, actually looking at her again. She couldn’t take her eyes off the flower in the other room.

“That flower. What is it?”

Dennis turned. Casey suddenly found it hard to muster her thoughts, eyes shifting back to the man in front of her. She followed the line of his neck down to his shoulders and swallowed, her mouth feeling too dry. With her gaze glued to the breadth of his shoulders, she couldn’t miss the way they tensed.

“Oh no…” he breathed. He spun to face her again, eyes wide. “That’s… oh no.”

Her hand moved almost of its own accord, touching his shoulders and tracing the muscles and tendons and bones up his neck. He actually flinched before practically throwing himself off the bed, away from her. She jerked back to her former position, arms around her knees, her hoodie nos clutched in one hand. “You… you shouldn’t touch me. You’re sacred food… That… that’s not supposed to bloom for another week. It’s supposed to be in the case before then.”

The words didn’t mean anything to her. She had trouble focusing on them passed the way her body felt and her internal struggle against touching him. Why did she want to touch him? She shook her head as if that might help clear it.

“Give me your shirt,” he said, voice and expression strained. Wordlessly, she offered the jacket to him. He stalked away to throw the cloth over the flower, wrapping it around the pot. Her eyes stay glued to his form as he pulled a plastic bag out of a trash can and lowered the pot and flower into it, tying the bag shut.

Holding the entire thing away from him, he returned to shut the door. “You need to shower. Get the pollen off. Hopefully… hopefully you didn’t inhale too much.”

“Why?” A sense of unease stirred in her gut, different than before, as her head started to clear just a little.

“Just shower,” was his only response before he shut the door and she heard his footsteps move away.

A shower. She didn’t want to take off her clothes and get in the shower. What if he came back while she was in there? What if he took her clothes? What if he did worse than that?

The smell—she guessed it was from the flower—lingered, even with the plant gone. Frowning, she lifted her sleeve to her nose—it was on her clothes. It made her head swim, the haziness returning, and the uneasy feeling doubled. What would the pollen do to her? She remembered the way she had touched him, barely aware of her own actions, and shuddered. What had it already done?

It would have to be one of the quickest showers of her life, she decided.

Halfway through the bathroom doorway, the door behind her opened and the man stepped through, a couple of bags in his hand. He froze at the sight of her.

“What aren’t you in the shower? You were supposed to be in the shower.”

“I’m getting in now.”

He shook his head, face twisted with some distress, or anger, or… something, she didn’t know. “I have to take your clothes. They have the pollen on them.” He looked at her. “Take them off.”

Casey went cold at that, her body trembling. “Turn around.”

His eyes locked with hers as he shook his head slowly. “I’m not stupid. I won’t turn my back on you like Patricia did.”

Her exhale was shaky and she shook her head. “I won’t try anything. I just want a little privacy,” she tried, just shy of pleading.

He closed his eyes, scoffing as he shook his head yet again. “Take off your clothes, please.”

“Please, turn—“

“Oh, we don’t have time for this!” His voice changed, his posture and even the way he held his face. Patricia took a deep breath, pulling off the glasses and folding them before she looked at Casey, expression firm. The teen’s pulse spiked.

“My dear, the pollen of that flower has two effects,” the woman said, speaking quickly. “One, it is a powerful aphrodisiac. Those who inhale it experience a state of extreme arousal. It is also said to enhance stamina and heighten the pleasure of sex, and is prized in several countries for this. Though it is _illegal_ here in the States—I haven’t the slightest _idea_ how Heinrich managed to get his hands on it. It is also highly toxic, deadly, in fact, though something about actually having sex while under its influence negates the toxic effect.” She seemed put off by the mere thought.

“It is my sincerest hope that we have not inhaled enough to experience _any_ those effects. I would much prefer you to stay untouched for The Beast, but we will do what is necessary to keep all of us alive until his arrival. Now, take off your clothes and get in the shower. Dennis will bring you something else to put on after we have showered as well.”

Casey had never taken off her clothes so fast in her life. It didn’t matter that Patricia watched her the entire time or took her clothing afterwards—all that mattered was getting it off and getting in the shower. She hoped she hadn’t taken too long.

But on the stripped cot after her shower, she feared that she had. Those few minutes before he took the flower away, the time she spent debating whether she should actually shower, and then the few moments arguing with them—it must have been enough. Her body felt hot, her breathing had picked up, and she could feel the wet ache between her legs already. She couldn’t even properly cover herself up—the towel in the bathroom wasn’t big enough to wrap around her body and Dennis hadn’t yet returned with whatever they deemed suitable for her to wear.

Footsteps and the jingle of keys on the other side of the door brought her head up just before Dennis—had to be Dennis, he was wearing the glasses—stepped into the room. Despite the stack of clothing and bedding in his hand, Casey could tell that he, too, already knew that their actions had been too little, too late. His shirt wasn’t buttoned right, he was breathing too fast, and he looked anywhere but her, while she couldn’t look anywhere but him.

She swallowed a sob.

Leaving the door open, he laid his burden on the other cot and turned to her.

“What… what's your name?” he asked as he rubbed a hand over his head, still not looking at her. His voice was gruff, deep, and sent arousal shooting straight through her.

“...Casey.”

“Casey,” he repeated, nodding. Finally, he looked at her. Somehow, he kept his eyes trained on her face. She had noticed before, but she was struck anew by how intense his gaze was, how beautifully blue his eyes were. “I'm Dennis.”

She already knew that, but she nodded anyway.

“I'm… sorry this is happening this way.” Licking his lip, he took a step toward the bed. Casey curled in on herself despite the building heat and how much her body ached to be touched. Her mind rebelled at the thought of doing _anything_ like that.

He stopped, exhaling audibly, and rubbed a hand over his head again. “You’re supposed to be sacred food,” he said, frustrated. “I’m not supposed to touch you. But the flower bloomed too early, and now I _have_ to or we’re both gonna die.” He took a deep breath, pinching the bridge of his nose just below his glasses, eyes closed. “I know you don’t want this. Patricia said I should do what I can to make it easier on you. I’m not sure how to do that.”

His hand dropped and his eyes opened, locking with hers. “Tell me how.”

Casey’s mind blanked, her eyes widening. He was… he was… was he giving her control? Or… no, he wasn’t, not exactly. But it was enough of an opening that she could take it if she wanted to.

She found herself very much wanting to and wasn't sure how much that came from her or the pollen.

“Take…” she paused, swallowing because her throat and mouth were suddenly desert-dry. “Take off your clothes?” She cursed herself for the slight rise in her voice at the end. It should have been an order.

His hands went to his collar and started unbuttoning his shirt; that was a relief. Casey wasn’t sure how she might have reacted if he had reached for his belt first. Desire may have burned in her body, but her mind struggled with horror-filled memories and the panic they brought with them.

“I… don’t like that I’m the only one naked. Too vulnerable.” Why did she say that? She didn’t need to explain herself. She just needed to tell him what to do.

He nodded, folding his button-up with his usual neatness and placing it on the other cot before taking off his glasses and adding them on top. There wasn’t another shirt underneath and Casey was surprised by how entrancing his upper body was. Mostly because she wasn’t sure it was all because of the pollen. He was actually hot, if you could get passed the whole multiple personalities, kidnapping teenage girls and planning to feed them to some beast thing.

His hands dropped to his belt—why he had bothered with the belt when he didn’t put on an undershirt, or even socks and shoes for that matter, Casey wasn’t sure she wanted to think about—and panic shot through her.

“Wait!” He stopped, looking at her. “Come… come here.” There was a slight hesitation before he took the two quick steps that put him right in front of her. She swallowed, hard, before uncurling her body to sit on the side of the cot, legs brushing his pants. Her hair covered her upper body; at this angle, she was pretty sure he couldn’t see the scars on her abdomen. It made her feel a little better about being naked in front of him. Not much, but a little.

Hesitant, she raised her hand. She wanted to touch him—the desire to do so, and do a lot more than simply touch, was on the edge of overwhelming—but she was still scared. Still caught up in her head and the memories that lurked there.

Just shy of actually putting her fingers on his skin, she jerked her hand back slightly, curling the digits in. She looked up at him. “Don’t touch me until I say so.” The words came out properly this time, not a request, not a suggestion, but an order.

His nostrils flared with his inhale, his hands clenched into fists at his sides, and then he nodded, tucking them behind his back.

The gesture gave Casey some of the confidence she desperately needed. Eyes following her own movements, she placed her hand on his stomach. His skin was warm, almost hot, despite the fact that it felt like her own body was practically on fire. Stress must be making her hands cold. She let her hand shift across his stomach, feeling the tensing of muscles there, then, as she moved her hand higher, the rise and fall of his breath.

When she couldn’t reach farther from her seated position, she stood, her entire body millimeters from his. The closeness made her almost dizzy; with every inhale, she could smell his soap, fresh as he was from the shower. Something clean, maybe minty? Whatever it was, she liked it better than—no, she needed to stop thinking about that.

This may be happening because of some stupid flower, but dammit, she was in control here. She was going to make the most of that, letting her hands wander his upper torso, his arms, familiarizing herself with this naked portion of his body. Tantalizing herself, thanks to the pollen. All the while, never looking up into his face.

Until she slid her hand up the back of his neck and did. Those blue eyes were dark, intense, and full of so much heat that it had her struggling to breathe. She let her other hand join the first at the back of his neck and swayed forward, pressing her torso to his. The sensation of her nipples brushing against his chest with every breath they took made her next inhalation shaky. The exhalation that followed could have been a low moan.

“Kiss me,” she said, and though she wasn’t entirely sure the words came out like she intended, at least she got them out.

But he didn’t obey this time. “I want to touch you.”

It shook her, but she managed to ask, “Where?”

The rise and fall of his chest became more uneven. “Your waist. Your neck. Your hair. Your mouth—I love your mouth. I want to fuck it.”

The words surprised her, but less because he said them than because of the arousal that shot through her when he did. She blamed the pollen. “Waist, neck, hair—no choking, no pulling my hair.” The words burned on the way out, embarrassing and painful, but she was glad she said them. “ _Kiss me_.”

He didn’t need to be told again, one arm around her waist pulling her tighter to him while his other hand traced up the back of her neck to plunge into her hair. His mouth touched hers with surprising hesitancy at first, but once he seemed to get the hang of it, his kisses were as intense as his eyes. Nearly drugging. For long minutes, all she could think about was the taste of him, the scent and feel of him practically surrounding her.

Casey found herself clinging to him, panting when they broke apart—

“Take your pants off.”

He had to let go of her to do so and Casey dropped back onto the cot, eyes not leaving him for a second. She felt no fear when his hands undid his belt this time—only a sense of anticipation. She wondered if he would really want to fuck her mouth and the thought wasn't off-putting, even once his pants were off and she could see every inch of him. Every inch.

But when he stepped toward her again and slipped his hand back into her hair, it wasn’t to guide her mouth to his cock—it was to kiss her, hard and full of urgency. Her hands moved back up, one to his neck and the other pressing against his cheek. She tried to lean back and pull him down onto the cot with her, but he resisted.

“I want to do something,” he said, eyes glued to hers. How did he do that? Manage to just look her in the eye? She had teachers—teachers!—who couldn’t do that.

“What?”

He seemed at a loss for a second before he came up with the words. “I want to kiss you. Touch you. Your pussy, I mean.”

Heat flared through her and before she really comprehended what she was doing, she had swung her legs onto the cot, scooted up so he would have room on the bottom and pulled him onto it with her, nodding rapidly. “Yes, yes, you can do that.”

He eased down between her legs while she bit her lip in anticipation. Just his breath on her thighs had her holding back a moan. She had definitely _never_ been this turned on in her life. As his hands ran up and down her legs, his mouth pressing kisses to her inner thighs, she closed her eyes and leaned her head back, not sure she could take watching him in addition to feeling him. Not without losing her mind, at least.

But the next thing she felt wasn’t his mouth on her core—it was his fingers on her belly and his weight shifting up on the cot. When she lifted her head, eyes open, she saw him staring down at the scars scattered across her skin, fingers running over them with the softest of touches. He looked up at her, an unreadable expression on his face, as he spread his hand over her abdomen, the gesture somehow feeling protective. “Who—what—why do you… have these?”

For some reason, the words made her want to cry and Casey had never been comfortable with her own tears. “Can we… can we go back to you going down on me? I’m not… I don’t want to talk—“ _or even think_ “—about my scars.”

Thankfully—surprisingly—after a slow blink and a brief crinkling of his face into its usual frown lines, he nodded and shifted back again, fingers leaving her stomach to trail gently over the outside edges of her center. The touch made her breath hitch—she was already so sensitive, how was she going to survive _more_ than this—and she let her head fall back, hands clenching at her sides. She sort of wished they had made the bed so she could have had something to hold onto.

“You’re beautiful,” he said, so low she almost missed it. Too keyed up to actually relax now, something nevertheless went soft and warm at the words.

He parted her folds with his fingers and then he was kissing her _there_ —oh god—his tongue was—oh _fuck_. She gasped, hips jerking against his mouth, one hand going to his head, the other grabbing the arm he had slipped under her. His other hand wound up back on her stomach, trying to hold her still as he slipped his tongue inside her—and _fuck_ , she couldn’t think, drowning in the sensation, gasps and curses and something like moans spilling from her lips. Her body wouldn’t be still, pleasure coiling tighter and tighter in her gut with every movement of his tongue and then his mouth enveloped her clit and he _sucked_. Her world whited out and she swore she saw stars.

He was still lapping at her when she came down, encouraging the little aftershocks that ran through her, which felt— _sublime,_ if she was honest, but when he sucked on her clit again she had to push him away. “Too much,” she panted when he looked at her. “Too intense.”

Sitting back on his heels, his arm slipped from around her, but he trailed his hand down her leg and wrapped it around her calf. Keeping in contact. Casey was grateful for it as she tried to put herself back together again, arm draped over her face. Unseen, his eyes wandered over her naked form, as much studying her scars as admiring her body.

“Are you alright?”

The question inspired a huff of laughter and she moved her arm so she could look at him. “Yeah. Just need to catch my breath.”

“Hm.” His thumb stroked the back of her calf as he went back to caressing her with his gaze. The way he looked at her had heat pooling in her groin again, far quicker than she thought. She sat up, startling him; he was still between her legs and she scooted closer, rising up on her knees to press herself against him. One hand was on the back of his neck again as their eyes met and held, the other guiding his hand to her waist. His arousal brushed her as she kissed him.

She could feel the tension in his muscles as he settled his other hand opposite the first and pulled her the tiniest bit closer. Taking her hand from his arm, she slid it down his chest, finding his cock and wrapping her fingers around it. His breath stuttered, his mouth open and his eyes unfocused as she explored his length, then began to jerk him off. Her lips wandered his jaw as he panted, down his neck where she sucked a mark onto his skin. He groaned and his jaw clenched, breath coming hard through his nose as he lowered his head to her shoulder. Her pussy clenched at the sound.

“Touch me,” she whispered into his ear, her free hand taking one of his from her waist and guiding it between her legs before returning to his shoulder. His head came up, eyes on hers, as his fingers slipped and slid between her folds, her hand still steadily moving over his cock. They found her entrance, one dipping inside without resistance. A sigh escaped her, the feel of his finger better than she expected, but still not enough. He added a second, slowly pumping them inside her.

The pleasure didn’t hit her as hard or fast this time, building slow and easy, almost languid in comparison to that first one. But Dennis’s hand tightened around her, his fingers going still as his eyes half closed, his breath stuttering out of his lungs and his hips jerking as his cum hit her fingers and both their stomachs, hot on her skin.

“Sorry.”

“Nothing to be sorry for.” It surprised her a little, but… she leaned forward, kissing him again before he could look down at the mess and start thinking about it. “I don’t mind.” She shifted her hips and he took the hint for what it was, his fingers moving inside her again.

“Still hard though,” he said between kisses a moment later. “And I want to fuck you. With more than just my fingers.” The wiggle of said fingers while still inside her almost made Casey giggle. Except that the thought of his cock inside her put her far from a giggling mood, her cunt aching for more than fingers.

“Okay,” she said, a little breathless. The surprise on his face made her smile. Then he picked her up and laid her back on the cot, covering her with his body. His hands were behind her knees, spreading her legs as he pressed against her and Casey panicked. _Too fast._ “Slow, Dennis! Slow!”

He stopped entirely, blue eyes returning to hers. They roamed her face, looking for something, and whatever he saw there had him letting go of her legs. One hand came up to cup her cheek while the other was planted against the thin mattress to hold his torso off of hers. Slow, just as she had said, he lowered his mouth to hers, the kiss surprising and arousing in its care.

Her body relaxed, her hands exploring the expanse of his back. One leg hooked around the back of his thigh and his hand held it there, thumb rubbing soothing circles on her skin. He lowered himself to his forearm and she could feel his arousal on her thigh. The panic was gone, her hand sliding between them to grasp him and guide him.

“Now?”

“Now,” she nodded, arching to meet him as he slid inside. They both groaned. There was a stretch, a sense of fullness, and the most intense feeling that this was _right_. It felt good, better than good—she never wanted him to pull out. Her eyes closed and he rolled his hips, settling deeper. _So, so good_. Then he started to move, careful thrusts that had her opening her eyes and looking up into his hypnotic gaze. His pupils were blown wide, but there was still that brilliant blue surrounding them. Casey couldn’t look away, rocking her own hips to match his motions, every slide of him inside her glorious.

When had she ever felt this good?

And yet… wonderful as this slow, sensual fucking was, it wasn’t enough. She wanted— _needed_ —more.

“Faster,” she breathed. “Please, faster.” Dennis picked up the pace immediately, eager, his hand tightening on her thigh.

“Yes, yes. Like that.” The moan that left her lips should have felt embarrassing, but all Casey could think about was the man driving into her, eyes never leaving hers. Hot and hard and wet and _fuck_ , how did he know how to do that? He had shifted, something different in the way his cock stroked inside her, and whatever he was touching now had pleasure dancing under her skin all the way to her fingertips. Her toes curled, her fingernails scraping his skin as she tried to hold on to something, sensation swelling rapidly—but it wasn’t quite enough to send her over the edge.

“Harder. Dennis, please, _harder_.”

He obliged, lifting her leg onto his shoulder, allowing his cock to plunge into her at just the right angle. She couldn’t keep her eyes open anymore, back arching and mouth opened in a silent scream as she came. His hips stuttered, pace slackening, as he pulled out and climaxed with her, a low groan the only sound he made.

He didn’t pull away further than that and when she opened her eyes again, panting with him, his were still locked to hers.

“So beautiful,” he said and a flush suffused Casey’s cheeks. His hand stroked her hair, his body settling down to hers. He kissed her right on that blush, both sides, slow and deliberate, before lowering his lips to hers.

When they parted, exhaustion started to set in; there was still heat lingering under her skin, uncomfortable but not urgent. She wondered if Patricia’s claims about enhanced stamina were actually true, what with how tired she felt, then remembered what they had done so far.

“Do you think… that’s it?” she asked.

He took a moment to answer, instead choosing to shift their positions so they were both on their sides.

“I don’t know. I… didn’t want to know much about that flower. It seemed dangerous.” Lower, he added, “I should have gotten rid of it before now.”

Casey hummed, noncommittal—this had been a revelation for her, having sex she actually enjoyed, even if it was coerced by a fucking plant. “If it’s not, there’s no point in getting cleaned up—we’d just wind up a naked mess again.” He flinched a little at that; she ran her hand up and down his arm, soothing. “We could… get a little rest for now?”

After a moment—she supposed he was considering it—he grunted, shifting again to fit her tighter against his body. Casey dozed off almost as soon as she closed her eyes.

* * *

When she roused again, he was sitting up, erection in hand, stroking himself, and her pussy clenched at the sight. Clearly, the pollen had _not_ worn off yet. She curled toward him, replacing his hand with her mouth, amused by his surprised hiss. He _had_ said he wanted to fuck it.

* * *

Hours later, when she finally woke without the heat of the pollen’s effects simmering under her skin, it was with a pillow under her head and a sheet covering her nakedness. She slowly blinked away the heavy, tired feeling in her lids and looked around for Dennis.

Instead, she spotted Patricia sitting on the other cot, fully clothed and clearly waiting for her.

“Dennis has shared with me some interesting news,” the woman said, tone slightly different from her usual false cheer. “I want to talk to you about it.”

Casey wanted to swallow, but her mouth was too dry. She said nothing. As expected, Patricia continued anyway.

“Sweet Casey,” that was new, “who gave you those scars?” And that was totally unexpected. More than a little terrifying as well. “I don’t think they were the result of any accident, or even self-inflicted for the most part. We’re very familiar with injuries, you see.

“Who has been hurting you?”

Years’ old fear rose up in her throat, keeping her from saying anything.

Patricia’s expression was… unexpectedly kind, genuinely so. “You can tell me, Casey. The only people who can hurt you now are us, and _I promise_ , we never will. You are pure—you have suffered. You are like us, and as such, you are ours to protect.”

She wasn’t sure she could actually believe her, but she remembered the way Dennis had looked at her scars throughout their time together and she wanted to.

“My uncle,” she whispered.

Patricia nodded. “Are your parents living, my dear?”

“No.” Tears were welling up in her eyes for some reason, making her voice thick. It baffled Casey, but she didn’t let it stop her from continuing. “It’s just me and—and my uncle. For _years_.”

Patricia nodded again, her expression still full of that strangely genuine kindness. “Dennis said you were very hesitant last night, despite the pollen. Am I right in thinking this was because of what your uncle did to you?”

A sob broke loose from her chest. “Yes,” she got out, vision blurry. She tried to blink it away and managed to do so just in time to catch a brief hardening of Patricia’s expression.

“The Beast will see to him,” she said, standing and crossing to Casey’s cot. Her hand settled on her hair, stroking it with something like motherly affection. “You are pure, Casey,” she repeated. “And now you are ours to protect.”

A shiver ran down Casey’s spine.

“Now,” some of that cheer returned to the woman’s voice, “you should rest. The door will stay locked, for now, but once the Beast has arrived, consumed the sacred food and taken care of your uncle, I think we will be able to dispense with that formality, hm?” She patted Casey’s shoulder and moved away to the door, which was still open.

“Oh, but before you go back to sleep, perhaps put some clothes on? Hedwig has been desperate to check on you, and it wouldn’t do for him to see you naked. He is a child, after all.”

With that, she left Casey alone to digest her new reality.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm actually very pleased with how this turned out. Surprising, given how much I hated what I was writing when I was writing it. And how much I struggled to keep to a single tense. (Please, please, please, _please_ , let me know if you see any spots I missed.)
> 
> Hope you enjoyed!
> 
> (The title was inspired by a line in the fic that reminded me of a lyric from Panic at the Disco's song _New Perspective_. Kudos if you recognize it.)


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